


Good Seed from a Bad Lot

by WTFAidaWTF (Aida)



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And I'm sticking to it, Dwaggins, Fluff and Crack, For that I'm sorry, I don't really know a whole lot about biker rallies, M/M, Rating May Change, Romance, Taking a bit of book canon and sailing away with it on my crack ship, That is my name for this ship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-16
Updated: 2014-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-08 15:42:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/763102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aida/pseuds/WTFAidaWTF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo had a weakness. One that he strived to overcome after his breakup with Thorin Durin; a simple weakness, but a difficult one to deal with.</p><p>All of his exes, especially Thorin, had fit the "tough guy" stereotype that made Bilbo's hidden wild streak thrive. </p><p>So he was dead set on never getting involved with someone who fit that criteria ever again...</p><p>... Until his friend Bofur introduced him to a guy with one helluva weird nickname, and with weird facial hair to match.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meeting the Infamous Captain

**Author's Note:**

> I told you I'd do it. I told you I'd do a modern-AU with Bilbo/Dwalin, or "Dwaggins" as I like to call it. Dwaggins will never become a thing, I know, but I'm STILL USING IT!
> 
> Anyway, this little nugget was actually inspired by a bit from the book, and my brain went wild from there.
> 
> If you know what that is? Good for you. If not? Well, either someone will tell you or you can find it on google if you're so dead set on not reading the books. 
> 
> I apologize for the horrible reference to it ahead of time, by the way. For those of you who know, you'll see it and... well, yeah.

Bilbo was a simple man who enjoyed the simple pleasures in life. A cup of tea, a good book, and simply-prepared delicious food were all he really needed.

That did not mean he didn’t have a bit of a danger streak. 

He was rebellious as a younger lad, smoking and drinking, and generally causing ruckus with friends who were even worse than he was. That died down when his parents passed away, but it still lived within him. Particularly, it lived in his preference for men: big, strong, tattooed men who were danger personified. He dated such men, and one in particular was a big mistake. A mistake by the name of Thorin Durin.

It was nice, at first. He genuinely loved Thorin, and the man loved him back. However, he wasn’t as affectionate as he’d like him to be (that was expected), and was incredibly jealous and possessive (that was unexpected and very much unwanted). When Thorin had actually punched one of his friends in the face for “trying to make advances” in the form of sitting next to him and putting a hand on his shoulder, Bilbo ended it. It was one of many instances, and he couldn’t take it anymore. It was for the best, in the end, and it taught Bilbo a lesson he should’ve learned long before during his previous relationships: don’t date men like Thorin. They might make him weak in the knees, but they aren’t good relationship material, which was what he wanted.

He just wished he could live up to it, especially now.

“Why on earth did I let you talk me into this?” Bilbo shouted over the sounds of revving engines to his friend Bofur. Bofur, who had a penchant for braiding his long hair and wearing some of the most ridiculous hats he’d ever seen. A friend he knew since his rebellious phase and, while he was respectable, Bofur still immersed himself in his old life from time to time. Much more than Bilbo did, anyway.

The thing that Bofur talked Bilbo into was a biker rally. It seemed interesting, and a good idea at the time, but the trip to get there was long and arduous, and Bilbo was sure all the exhaust was doing more damage to his lungs than any of his smoking ever did. Despite all that, he could not deny the little thrill that rushed through him while he stood amongst all the commotion.

Bofur just laughed at him. “I thought you’d want to live it up a little!” He called right back. “You’ve been doing nothing but sit at home, work at your bookshop, and take care of your nephew.” 

“He’s an adorable nephew!”

“Indeed, he is!” Bofur agreed. “But you haven’t done anything outside of that! You haven’t gone out, you haven’t dated. I highly doubt you’re getting-.”

“Alright!” Bilbo cut him off. “I know I’m not… living it up, but I’m trying to do right by my nephew and by me. That, and I don’t have time for dating.”

“You mean you don’t want to date who you want-.”

“I made that mistake several times, and I won’t do it again.” Bilbo replied sternly, even as his gaze lingered on a biker’s arse in jeans and leather. “Especially after Thorin.”

“He was just one bad seed of the lot.” Bofur stated drily.

“Still-.” Bilbo started, only to be cut off when everyone started getting particularly loud and excited. “What’s-?”

“Ah, he’s here!” Bofur chirped happily as one engine continued on revving. “I was hoping he’d show up!”

“You were hoping who would show up?” 

Bofur smirked in that familiar way that had Bilbo worrying. “Captain Bluebeard.”

“ _Who_?”

“You’ll see. Come on!”

With that, Bofur dragged him through the rowdy crowd, pushing and being pushed, before eventually working his way to the front, where the crowd had encircled a large man on a particularly large bike. He killed the engine as soon as Bilbo had moved to stand next to his jeering friend and stood, and Bilbo was entranced.

He was big, as was noted earlier, but when he stood he seemed to tower over everything. His leathers accentuated how broad and fit he was. Large shoulders, tapered waist, and an arse that one could bounce off something as large as the bike he was sitting on not moments before. He removed his helmet (at least the man was safety conscious) revealing a shiny bald head lined with tattoos. As he turned around, waving and jeering with the others, Bilbo finally realized why Bofur called him such a strange name.

For the man had a beard, despite his baldness, and a good portion of it was dyed a bright, electric blue. 

He seemed too old for such a thing, but for some odd reason, it suited the man fairly well. And while not particularly beautiful, he had a roughness about him that made Bilbo’s knees weak, and they almost caved when he saw those bright teeth shining from the fur on his face.

When the man dubbed Captain Bluebeard finally turned towards his direction, his smile only wavered slightly before returning with a heat that Bilbo knew all too well.

Bilbo was sure he was doomed, and was thankful when someone managed to shout loud enough to catch his attention so Bilbo could come back to his senses.

“Well?” Bofur asked, and Bilbo fought the urge to glare at his friend’s knowing smirk. 

“I can see why you lot call him Bluebeard.” He remarked instead. “Though why you’d call him _Captain_ …”

“He was in the army for several tours.” Bofur explained, nodding his head in the man’s direction. “Seen his fair share and the lot.”

 _He’s a biker, plus he was in the army._ Bilbo thought as his mind reeled. _Have mercy._

“Ah, but he’s of the good kind.” Bofur replied. “I’ve known him for ages.”

“Really?” Bilbo asked, and fought down the petulant urge to ask, “Why didn’t I know about him?”

Bofur just nodded. “Family friend, and all that.” He explained. “Grew up in the same neighborhood. My brother and I would always-!”

“Bofur!”

Bilbo jumped at the loud, gravelly voice and his stomach quaked as Captain Bluebeard (he really needed to learn his actual name _only because it was polite_ ) walked up to them. 

“Dwalin!” Bofur crowed as he hugged the large man tightly. It was so familial that Bilbo almost felt like an intruder. “You old man! How long’s it been?”

“Oi! If I’m old, then so are you! You with your hats!” He growled back, all pearly teeth showing in what looked like a _snarl_. “And it’s been too long!”

“Yeah, yeah!” Bofur laughed, swatting at him when he moved to play with said hat. 

Bilbo watched the entire thing whilst trying to fight back a ridiculous grin. It was almost sweet, how this large biker was joking around with an old friend like this instead of the two punching each other and calling one another horrid nicknames.

Well, Captain Bluebeard _was_ horrid, but not in that way. 

His thoughts screeched to a halt when he realized that they were looking at him. Capta- _Dwalin_ (Bilbo was sure Bofur called him Dwalin) was smirking at him and looking at him in a way that it made his poor chest and stomach erupt. 

“So,” Dwalin Bluebeard ( _dammit_ , now it was stuck in Bilbo’s head) stated, and Bilbo was most definitely not blushing. “Who’s your date?”

Bofur laughed at him before tugging Bilbo over. “Oh, no. This is one of my old friends. Dwalin, this is Bilbo Baggins.” He greeted as Dwalin reached over to shake Bilbo’s trembling hand. “Bilbo, this is Dwalin Fundinson. AKA, Captain Bluebeard!”

Dwalin cringed at the nickname before continuing on with his greeting. “A pleasure to meet you, Bilbo Baggins.”

“And you.” Bilbo replied, staring up at Dwalin and into his eyes. He was a beast of a man, that was for sure. But there was something about his eyes. When they weren’t heated or leering, there was a spark there. Almost like a gentleness.

Perhaps Dwalin Fundinson was really just a giant teddy- _no_.

Bilbo stomped out that train of thought before it could even leave the station. He learned his lesson, dammit. He wasn’t about to make the same mistakes. Maybe Dwalin would be like a teddy bear at first, but then it would all spiral out of control. Just like with Thorin. And all the others. 

“Well!” Bofur crowed, slapping them on the shoulder (In Bilbo’s case, anyway. He barely managed to hit Dwalin on the arm, the man was so big). “I’m gonna try and find some beers. Be right back!”

As Bofur walked off, Bilbo fought down the urge to glare at his friend. It was now quite clear why Bofur was so insistent in bringing Bilbo here. Why he wanted Bofur to meet Dwalin. Of course, it couldn’t be the only reason, but still. Clearly, Bofur thought he saw something (and that damnable man knew of Bilbo’s weaknesses), and he clearly was trying to set them up.

Well, he wasn’t going to fall for that. He knew better, and he wasn’t going to swoon over Dwalin like Bofur thought he would.

Still, it would be rude just to keep silent, so Bilbo once again returned his gaze to peer up at the large man, and automatically his eyes were drawn to that electric blue beard. 

“So… Captain Bluebeard?” Bilbo started, causing Dwalin to snort and stroke that part of his facial hair.

“Believe me, I think it’s ridiculous as well.” He replied gruffly. “Started out as a way to rebel as a kid. Even had a big, fat mohawk as well. Clearly, I didn’t think that through.”

Dwalin seemed pleased when Bilbo couldn’t fight a giggle. “Cut it all off when I joined the army, but once I left… I missed it.” He explained. “You must think it’s weird.”

“Well, there aren’t many men out there who dye their beards like that.” Bilbo replied, and before he could stop himself, he continued, “But it suits you.”

Dwalin seemed even more pleased at that, and Bilbo was cursing how charming he looked. “Really?”

“You definitely pull it off.” Bilbo agreed with a nod, and he hated himself for it. Hated how he was already losing himself in his battle of self-control. But Dwalin was just too attractive. Everything about him screamed at Bilbo’s wild side, and the way he smiled, when it was earnest and sweet, made his poor heart flutter. Made him want to curl into that big, strong frame and allow that large man to protect him from the world. Be lifted up in those thick arms and support him as he-.

His thoughts were cut off, then. In fact, _everything_ was cut off. Apparently, the music, or the engines, or the total chaos was too much. Bilbo knew those sirens and those flashing lights well.

“ _Fuck_!” Dwalin snarled angrily. “Knew we should’ve done this somewhere else!”

“We need to get out of here.” Bilbo stated, even though it was quite obvious. But in such situations, he was sometimes struck dumb.

“Yeah, you’re right.” But Dwalin didn’t seem to mind. “You go meet up with Bofur! He’ll take care of you!”

“You’ll be alright on your own?” Bilbo shouted as Dwalin already began to weave around the fleeing crowds.

“Trust me,” Dwalin called back, and that dangerous smirk was back on his face. “I’ve done this before.”

If Bilbo thought his knees were weak before, then he was kidding himself, because oh, sweet mercy-!

“Bilbo!”

Bilbo whirled around and saw Bofur standing not far off. Immediately, Bilbo moved in an all-too-familiar dance around the crowds and latched onto his friend’s open hand. He allowed Bofur to drag him along, keeping his grip strong as they rushed back to the truck they used to get there in the first place. 

When they got in, they wasted no time for safety, like buckling seatbelts and the like. Bofur just started the engine and _gunned_ it. He wasted no time pulling out of the dusty valley and out into the open road, not once slowing down. Bilbo thought for a moment that they’d flip over, because one _really_ shouldn’t make such sharp turns on such a large vehicle-.

Eventually, the noises and the chaos were well behind them, and they both let out a collective sigh of relief as Bofur lowered his speed to a more respectable one, and Bilbo finally buckled himself in with trembling hands. 

And when Bofur finally turned to him and asked, “Did you get his number?”, Bilbo just groaned.

Whether it was in exasperation or his own disappointment, even he didn’t know.

But it was probably for the best, anyway.


	2. Bag End Bookstore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bilbo takes a leap of faith... but not before trying to hide under his (surprisingly dusty) desk first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep. Bilbo's a bookstore owner. Why not? Plus, Bofur and Ori need to stop being so protective, dangit.

It had been a week since that biker rally, and Bilbo still hadn’t fully recovered from the brief encounter he had with Dwalin Fundinson. It was ridiculous, he knew it, but that large, brutish-looking man with those sparkling eyes and that sweet smile would keep popping into his head. Whenever he felt particularly weak, he’d imagine the typical “what-if”s that would tend to pop up at horrible times. What if Bilbo did get his number? Or he gave Dwalin his own? Would they go out, or just be friends? If they did go out, it would probably be to a tiny little dive that Bilbo always had the soft spot for, or perhaps he’d save that for a future date. If there was one. Would it be successful? Would Dwalin be the “good seed” of the lot, as Bofur would say?

In the end, Bilbo would always shake off such fantasies and try and move on. For he knew better, now. He was older, and wiser, and he certainly didn’t have the time to get his heart broken yet again for his weaknesses. Even over someone as seemingly nice as Dwalin “Captain Bluebeard” Fundinson. So Bilbo did what he always did: he busied himself. Particularly, he busied himself with his bookstore. 

Bag End Bookstore was an old, whimsical place that used to be Bungo Baggins’s pride and joy. Even now, with this day and age, it was a popular place to go when you wanted a good book. Bilbo himself took great care of the place, along with his employees. He even had coffee and tea for whoever wanted. He was thinking about maybe putting in a café, since it would bring in business, but while Bag End was doing well, it wasn’t doing well enough for major renovations like that.

Despite how it tied Bilbo down, he loved working there. He always loved it there, even when he was just a little kid. And he was glad that young boys like Ori loved it that much too, as he worked there part-time, and was one of the many boys Bilbo remembered always coming in whenever possible. Frodo, his nephew, always made time to visit, and he seemed rather eager himself to have the little shop passed down onto him when he was old enough and Bilbo was ready to retire. 

It was on a particularly warm and sunny day when chaos erupted outside Bag End, and Bilbo’s weakness reared its ugly head. 

Bilbo was in the back taking inventory, feeling comfortable that Ori was at the front, when he heard it. A revving engine. A familiar revving engine. From a familiar bike.

He hated how his heart fluttered so wildly in his chest, particularly when they seemed to be particularly close when they were unexpectedly cut off. 

For one moment, he allowed himself to become lost in a little fantasy, but then promptly knocked his head against the shelf he was standing in front of. Because while he might be a fool for men like Dwalin, men like Dwalin weren’t fools for men like him. They don’t go chasing after them on a little strand of hope after a chance meeting. Especially after a week. They weren’t foolhardy, nor easily smitten, like he had a tendency to be.

There was just _no way_. Even if Bofur did something that was completely in character and _told_ Dwalin where he worked, Dwalin wouldn’t come riding over to try and sweep Bilbo off his feet. 

If he was, then Bilbo wouldn’t let him. 

“Mister Baggins?”

Bilbo paled, hearing Ori call for him. If there was even a chance that Dwalin was asking for him, and therefore Ori was looking for him, he had to do something. The polite thing would be to answer and go up front to see who it was, and politely converse with Dwalin before kindly informing him that, despite everything, he wasn’t interested, no thank you. The cowardly thing to do would be to hide in the corner and wait for Dwalin to leave before immerging, claiming he was out. Or napping.

“Mister Baggins? Why are you curled up underneath your desk?” 

Bilbo cursed his luck, along with some cobwebs, before peering up at Ori. “I dropped my bloody pen!” He lied, though his frustration was true. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“There’s a man out front to see you.” Ori explained, motioning.

He swallowed. “Oh?” He remarked dumbly, causing Ori to nod slowly. “Ah, alright. Give me a moment, and I’ll be right out.”

“Mister Baggins?” Ori asked as Bilbo straightened and tried to make sure his clothes weren’t too covered in dust. “Is something wrong?”

“Hmm? Oh! Oh, no, Ori. Everything’s fine.” Bilbo assured with a quick smile, but Ori just continued to frown before leaning in.

“Mister Baggins… Bilbo…” He murmured, fidgeting a little. “If you think that this person is someone you don’t want to see… I can just tell them you’re not here, for you. If you’d like.”

Dear, sweet Ori. Ori, who didn’t know the full details of Bilbo’s past relationship problems, but enough to know that some people might not be entirely welcome in his little shop. Ori, who treated Bilbo like family, as did his brothers (though he could live without Dori’s speeches about how he “is a shining example that bad people can change for the better”). 

He was half tempted to take Ori up on his offer, but decided against it. It always worked out better when one did things the polite way. That, and Dwalin was a friend of Bofur’s. It wouldn’t do well to just ignore him.

“What’s he look like?” Bilbo finally asked Ori, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek when he blushed more.

“Erm, well… he’s rather tall. Bald. Came in on a bike…” Ori explained before fingering his chin. “And his beard is _blue_. Do you know anyone like that?”

“Yes, I do, Ori.” Bilbo said. “I’ll go out to talk to them. Don’t worry about calling Bofur or anything like that.”

“You sure?” Ori asked. 

“Absolutely.” He replied as he patted Ori on the shoulder. “I’ll take over the front for you, now. I’ll come back once I’m done, okay?”

Ori nodded. “Okay.” Though he still sounded rather wary. “But if he causes any trouble-!”

“I’ll let you know.” Bilbo cut in, feeling a little embarrassed with himself. And Bofur. Ever since he ended things with Thorin, his friends, Bofur and Ori in particular, took it upon themselves to ensure that Bilbo was as safe as he could be. It was ridiculous, since Thorin never _physically_ hurt him. He never would’ve dreamt of it. Still, they took extra precautions, and they made sure Bilbo felt one-hundred percent coddled.

He’d have to have words with Bofur about that, later. 

Meanwhile, he emerged form the back and tried not to seem too excited about the large, familiar man in his bookshop. It was silly, how his heart pounded at the sight of Dwalin, back facing him, as said man scanned the shelves. It was as if he didn’t even change his clothes from that night. Still in those jeans and that leather jacket, and it didn’t help that he was seeing this man in the daytime, since now he got a perfectly good view of his-.

“Captain Bluebeard?” Bilbo called out as he walked around the corner, biting his lip a little as he heard Dwalin sigh.

“I’m pretty sure I told you my actual name, now.” He replied, and Bilbo could definitely see how perfectly rugged his face was. How bright his dark eyes were, and exactly how intense that blue was in his beard. 

“Yes, well I didn’t know if you were still on the run form the cops or not.” Bilbo joked, and it was a bad joke, but Dwalin still laughed a laugh that sent thrills down Bilbo’s spine.

“Oh, no. I lost them ages ago.” Dwalin replied. 

“Yes, well…” Bilbo remarked as he shuffled. “That’s good. I’m glad to see you’re… good.”

“You too.” And Bilbo was sure his face resembled a tomato, but seeing Dwalin’s smile was worth it at the time. “I hope you don’t mind me being here, but Bofur recommended it.”

“Really?” Bilbo asked. “So, you’re looking for a book?”

“Yes, well... While I don’t read often, I actually can.” Dwalin replied as he tugged a random book off the shelf.

“Oh! Oh, no, I didn’t mean it as an insult, or-!” Bilbo sputtered, but Dwalin chuckled.

“I know, I know. That was a bad joke at my expense.” Dwalin assured as Bilbo frowned, because that didn’t seem right. Didn’t seem right at all. “It’s more to show my brother that I do it than for myself.”

“Really?” Bilbo asked. “Why is that?”

“Because he’s an outright pain in the arse when it comes to me.” Dwalin snorted before looking back down at Bilbo. “Don’t get me wrong. I do love my brother, but that doesn’t stop him from grating my nerves.”

“So, you want books to try to get him to ease off?” He asked. “Make you seem more…?”

“Actually, I wanted to get some books of a less-than-favorable taste to send him as a gag gift for his birthday coming up.” Dwalin explained with a mischievous smirk that had Bilbo’s own side rearing up. “Not that I’m trying to imply anything-.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised at how you can do that with just the right combination.” Bilbo explained. “What’s he do?”

“He’s in politics.” Dwalin explained.

“Oh, that’s easy.” Bilbo replied, already getting ready to guide Dwalin along. “The children’s section is right over here…”

Dwalin had laughed a loud boisterous laugh that had Bilbo giggling as well. Eventually, he took it more seriously and continued to lead Dwalin through the store. It soon became less about getting books and more about getting to know each other and getting the other to laugh. Dwalin was quite successful at it, and Bilbo was afraid that his laugh was too high, to scratchy, too annoying (many have told him just that), but Dwalin just laughed along with him, laughing even harder. And it seemed more and more like it was only laughing with him, not _at_ him. 

It had been so long since Bilbo felt so relaxed around someone outside of his small group of friends. So long since he had let go of himself so much without something to aid in that endeavor. It got to the point where his inner battle was dying off, and his sensible side was losing. Because maybe Dwalin could be the good seed. Maybe he was different. It seemed horribly unlikely, given what others had taught him, but he was surprisingly willing to give it a chance, especially if this really was what Dwalin was like all the time, and not just at the beginning. It helped matters when he was reminded of the fact that this was a friend of Bofur's; one of the few in his small group that was always there for him. One who knew him best. 

Maybe he could risk it one more time.

Of course, that sensible side was gearing back up as he thought these things, for he was surely jumping the gun at this point. It was one thing to experience a relationship with someone, and another to want one and then get shot down. Dwalin probably wasn’t even interested in him, anyway. 

_He wouldn’t really want a short, fat, practically middle-aged introvert with awkwardly large feet and a penchant for baggy jumpers and ratty dress pants, anyway._ Was the line his mind supplied that finally halted all of Bilbo’s secret hopes. Because Bilbo didn’t have low self-esteem, but he was sensible. Dwalin was very different in appearances in comparison, and it was likely he was looking for someone who definitely did not look like Bilbo. 

So by the time Bilbo had helped Dwalin get what he wanted, and was checking him out, he was officially back to his senses and feeling a little depressed about it. 

“Well, I do believe that’s everything.” Bilbo replied with well-practiced cheeriness as he handed Dwalin his bag and his receipt. “I hope that I managed to help you with everything.”

“Yeah, you did. You did.” Dwalin replied before sending him another grin. “Thanks.”

“Not a problem. Have a good day!” Bilbo said as Dwalin turned to walk away, and Bilbo was sure that the hesitation there was just a trick of the eyes. Because despite everything he told himself, despite everything he’d gone through, it actually felt painful to watch him go. Because he enjoyed talking to Dwalin. Immensely. Enjoyed it in a way he hadn’t in a long time, and never with any of the men he was interested in.

But it was for the best for this to happen.

Even though it felt like the worst.

“Actually,” Dwalin stated, turning around and snapping Bilbo out of his thoughts. “There was one other thing…”

“Oh, okay.” Bilbo replied, stepping around the counter. “What is it?”

Dwalin tried to start, but there was apparently a tickle in his throat, since he cleared it before continuing. “I was wondering if you were free after work.” He explained. “And was wondering if you’d like to go out for drinks. With me.”

“Go out for drinks?” Bilbo parroted, mind trying to wrap around what was happening. “Like a… date?”

He immediately wanted to take back that word, because _really_ , Bilbo…

But Dwalin just grinned, and Bilbo was so sure that he looked as uneasy as he felt. “If you’d like.” And Bilbo was sure Dwalin wanted it to be a date, and Bilbo really shouldn’t want it to be date, but he really, actually did.

Because, dammit Bofur, he really did like Dwalin. Because he was seemingly so bloody perfect, and it could all just go to hell like it did with everyone else. But he could trust Bofur. Trust his judgment. And there was a reason why he wanted them introduced. Why he wanted to leave them alone together. Why he wanted Bilbo to get his number.

However… “I can’t.”

Dwalin’s face immediately fell. “Oh.”

“N-Not that I don’t _want_ to! Because I do! I really do!” More than he should, and he laughed at his awkwardness. “I just… I’ve been asked to watch over my nephew this evening, and… I don’t want to just ditch responsibilities like that…”

“Oh!” Dwalin replied, understanding and relief clear on his features. “Oh, I completely understand!”

“Good, good.” Bilbo replied, because he didn’t have anything else to say to that. “Well, erm… Saturday?”

Dwalin blinked. “Pardon?”

“I’m not free today, but…” Bilbo started, trailing off, because maybe Dwalin didn’t really want this as much as Bilbo did. “Saturday… Is Saturday good? Because I can. On Saturday. If you can, anyway.”

And Dwalin smiled at him with that heart-stopping smile. “Saturday’s great.”

“Great!” Bilbo cried, biting his tongue, because _really, Bilbo_. “Good, erm… Oh!”

With that, Bilbo pulled out the pen he kept in his pocket and dug through Dwalin’s bag for the receipt he put inside. Quickly, and hoping that it was legible, he wrote down his number. 

“Meet me here at six, and er…” Bilbo replied, shoving the receipt back into the bag. “If anything happens, my number’s on the receipt. So don’t… don’t be afraid to call!”

“I won’t. Though…” Dwalin replied, pulling out the receipt to tuck it into his coat pocket. “It’d probably be safer here.”

“Yeah, probably…” Bilbo replied, because his mind was spinning again.

“Alright, well, I’ll see you on Saturday!” It was happening…

“See you!” It was _really_ happening…

Again…

And if it doesn’t work out this time…

Bilbo didn’t even know he had returned to the back until Ori appeared in his line of vision.

“Mister Baggins! Are you alright?” Ori cried as Bilbo nodded dumbly. “I know you said you didn’t want me to, but I called Bofur anyway. He did say Mister Fundinson was okay, but if he’s gotten you like this…”

“No, no, Ori.” Bilbo assured, taking a deep breath and smiling so wide his face hurt. “I’m perfectly fine. I just… took a rather large leap of faith just now. Still recovering…”

With that, Bilbo pulled out his phone and selected a rather familiar number. “And if Bofur isn’t free on Saturday to watch over Frodo, then I’m killing him for it.”


	3. Saturday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bilbo frets like a woman, and wee!Frodo wants a beard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update! Yay!
> 
> Also, something I've been meaning to leave in these notes and I've been trying to do: Thank you all for the lovely comments and kudos! They truly help me keep going and not feel like I'm just posting chapters for no one to read and enjoy. I might not respond, but I do read them and enjoy each one. I'll be better at responding, though, but at least know that YOU ARE NOT IGNORED!

Bilbo was certain that Bofur was two seconds away from throttling him at this point, but really, what else did his friend expect?

It was Saturday, finally, and the work day was slow and dead. It only bothered Bilbo because it made nerves and thoughts bubble forward and caused him to fret about. For this was his first date since he broke things off with Thorin almost a year ago. His first date with a man that had Bofur’s stamp of approval. And Bilbo, poor Bilbo, actually wanted it to desperately work out, or at least fall apart in a way that wouldn’t leave his heart and self-esteem more shattered than it already was. 

So that was why he took his lunch break at home and threw together something that was halfway decent for this upcoming date. That was why he visited the washroom every so often to fix his unruly hair and eventually give up, only to go back and try again. That was why Bofur, upon visiting the shop with Frodo, negated his original choice of wardrobe, left, and came back with something from Bilbo’s closet that didn’t contain yarn or dress pants that had been patched and re-patched more times than Bilbo could recall.

“You have five seconds before I drag you out of there by force!” Bofur called from the other side of the door as Bilbo continued to try and tame his hair yet again. 

Bilbo huffed, knowing such a threat wasn’t idly made, and he stepped out of the washroom to send his friend a look. “How do you know I wasn’t actually using it for its original purposes?”

“Because if you were doing that all this time, I’d be cancelling your date myself and dragging you to the hospital for your bladder problems.” Bofur responded quickly. “Good grief, Bilbo! You’re fretting more than a woman!”

“Pardon me for trying to look nice!” Bilbo snipped as he stepped around his friend to rest a hand against the counter, watching Frodo and Ori as they sat together and read a book. Ori, who wanted to make sure Mister Dwalin was nice enough for Bilbo himself this time around without being intimidated by his harsh looks this time. Frodo, because Bofur was there and he knew something was up with his uncle. He was young, but he was smart, that boy. 

He stared down at himself. At his blue button-up shirt and jeans. “Why did you pick this, anyway? Don’t I have something more… flattering?”

“You did… once upon a time…” Bofur replied slowly. “But if you recall, you got drunk and burned it all not long after Thorin finally moved his things out of your place and took most of your stuff along with him.”

“Oh, god, I do remember that…” He groaned, rubbing his heated face. “Why did you let me do that? You were there!”

“Because I was drunk, too.” Bofur snorted, crossing his arms and staring down at his friend. “And because you get violent when someone tries to stop you from doing anything after slugging down that much whiskey.”

Bilbo made another noise, and even he didn’t know what it was. “Why am I doing this?” He asked. “Why am I going along with your schemes and doing this _again_?”

“Well, that’s easy. You always fall for my charms.” Bofur snarked, batting his eyes and causing Bilbo to snort and roll his. “That, and Thorin’s been gone and wiped out of your life long enough. Because you’re one of my best friends, and I want to see you happy. And because you need someone to warm your bed at night.”

“Why don’t you focus on warming _your own_ bed?” Bilbo quipped despite the flush on his face that belied his embarrassment. 

“Oh, that’s been taken care of, already. Several times in fact.” Bofur stated as he adjusted his hat. He stared at his friend then, seeing something cloud Bilbo’s eyes, and he hated that such dark thoughts entered his friend’s mind still. He then placed a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder and shook him to get his eyes to clear. “Hey. I’ve known Dwalin for years, and I can honestly tell you that he is of the good sort. I know these things. Remember what I told you with Otho? With Smeag? _Smaug_? Even with Thorin, I tried to warn you, and I’m not trying to chastise you. Just proving a point that I can read people well. They weren’t of that sort, and you unfortunately learned that the hard way. There’s none of that with Dwalin, and I’m not just saying that because he’s my friend.”

Bilbo let out a deep breath at that before looking at Bofur with bright, wary eyes. “Are you sure I’m not jumping into this too soon?”

“Not at all.” Bofur assured, patting his friend’s back before pulling his hand away. “Just go slow. I know how you get when you’re really attracted to someone.”

Bilbo went red again, and Bofur laughed at the look on his friend’s face, laughing even harder when Bilbo began to swat him and chastise him for “using such language in front of such impressionable youth!”

Eventually, Bilbo stopped trying to kill Bofur, and it was safe again for the man to sit behind the counter whilst his friend did stretches. Bilbo was sure that Bofur thought of him as ridiculous, as if preparing for a marathon or a fight instead of a date, but Bilbo would do anything to calm his nerves besides slipping into the back and finding his old spare pack of cigarettes in his desk and lighting one up. The smell could possibly put Dwalin off, though it hardly ever did with anyone else. 

“By the way…” Bofur stated slowly after a while, and Bilbo never liked it when he spoke that way. “Would you be okay with me… telling Dwalin that, due to past experiences, to be careful…?”

“Wha-? No!” Bilbo replied quickly before Bofur could even finish. “Absolutely not! If anyone’s going to divulge my sordid dating history to him, it would be me! And hopefully, I will never have to do so!”

“Ah…” Bofur murmured, and Bilbo sent his friend a wary look.

“Bofur…” Bilbo began slowly. “Tell me you didn’t tell Dwalin… all that.”

“I didn’t.” And he responded far too quickly for Bilbo’s comfort.

“Are you lying?”

“… Maybe.”

“ _Bofur_!” Bilbo snarled, feeling absolutely mortified. And he hadn’t even had the chance to make a fool of himself in front of Dwalin first. Bofur had to go and do it for him!

“Now, hold on!” Bofur cried, cringing as Frodo and Ori looked up at them at the sound of Bilbo’s voice. “Look, I only said anything because he _asked_ , and it wouldn’t do to just lie to him. That, and he knows my tells. Can never play poker with that man.”

“Oh, gods…” Bilbo groaned. “He must think I’m some kind of nutter! He _had_ to have known something was off when he met me here at the _shop_!”

“No, no!” Bofur replied. “That’s not how it went at all!”

“He’s probably going to cancel!” Bilbo continued on as if Bofur didn’t say anything. “He’s probably not even going to do that! He’s probably going to stay home and hide from me, all because you had to go and confirm that I’m just a-!”

“Bilbo!” Bofur hissed, jostling his friend enough to get him to stop his ramblings and make sure Bilbo was aware that he was causing his other friend and nephew to worry. “As I was _saying_ , that’s not why he asked.”

“Why on earth would he ask, then?” Bilbo hissed back, still quite perturbed, but Bofur just sent him a wane grin.

“I’m not going to tell you exactly what he said. Just that he’s had problems like you, and not just with dating.” Bofur stated. “It’s also why I never introduced you until… well, when I did…”

“You mean…” Bilbo began, but trailed as Bofur nodded.

“PTSD. He’s been out of the game because he had… some difficulties after coming back. That, and he’s never had the best taste in dates, like you.” Bofur explained, causing Bilbo to huff. “And I just told him that, like him, you got involved with not-so-great people in the past, and it’s made you wary. Cautious. And I told him the exact same thing I told you, and that was to go slow. Because, also like you, he gets a certain way when he’s really attracted to someone. Especially after such a dry spell.”

Bilbo was sure his face resembled a tomato at that, and Bofur didn’t help at all when he laughed at the expression on his face. 

He had only just managed to get the color in his face relatively back to normal, and Frodo and Ori had since resumed reading, when the bells over the door jingled and he heard Ori squeak.

When Bilbo took in the newcomer, he understood why.

Because Dwalin had arrived, five minutes early in fact, and he was floored by his appearance.

While he still looked ruggedly handsome, and his beard was still that alarming shade of blue, he had cleaned up and dressed up as well. He was in a rather lovely black shirt, but still in his jeans, and he had forgone his leather jacket for one that wasn’t made of animal hide and was a rather fetching shade of green. Clearly, he didn’t arrive on his bike, which was both a disappointment and a relief for him. He wasn’t properly equipped to go on a bike anyway. That wasn’t the entire point, however.

For Bilbo could not stop staring, because he thought he’d never seen someone look so _delectable_ and perfectly _handsome_ in all his life.

“Hello!” Dwalin called. “I know I’m early, but I wanted to make sure I didn’t hit traffic. Hello again, Ori!”

“H-Hello, Mister Dwalin.” Ori stuttered, and Bilbo knew, from that point on, that Ori was going to develop the same penchant he had.

Frodo, who was still sitting next to Ori, was staring up at Dwalin with wide, awe-filled eyes, mouth hanging agape. Bilbo wanted to march right over and fix that, but he was having similar problems.

And that’s when it hit him: Frodo was still here, and Dwalin had arrived. Dwalin was meeting his nephew for the first time, and it was right before their first date.

Fear clenched his gut, for there weren’t many men that Bilbo had liked enough to date that took well to Frodo, and vice versa. Thorin was the only one who managed that until now, but it was only just, and that was because he had nephews of his own. 

Frodo didn’t like Thorin at all, though. He had said many times before how “scary-looking” he was.

And now he was meeting Dwalin, who was much more “scary-looking” than Thorin ever was.

“Oh, hello there!” Dwalin greeted, and Bilbo felt something in him ease as the large man crouched down to better talk to the young boy. “And who are you?”

“F-Frodo. Frodo Baggins.” Frodo replied meekly, and Bilbo began to fret again, up until Frodo pointed right at Dwalin’s face. “You’ve got blue hair!”

“Frodo!” Bilbo hissed as he rushed over. “Frodo, that’s quite rude!”

But Dwalin just laughed, stroking his beard. “Aye, I do.”

“Is that real?” Frodo asked, and Bilbo couldn’t believe how excited he sounded at the prospect. “Does it really grow like that?”

“No, no.” Dwalin corrected. “I color it, so it looks like this.”

Bilbo, who had frozen on the spot at the interaction, was a bit taken aback when Frodo ran right up to him, looking rather excited.

“Uncle Bilbo!” He cried, and Bilbo went on autopilot as he scooped up the lad into his arms. “Uncle Bilbo, do you think I could grow a beard and color it blue?”

Bilbo just sent his nephew a look and saw from the corner of his eye how Dwalin had rose back up and was seemingly fighting the urge to laugh. 

“Frodo, my boy, if you can manage to grow a beard, you can color it any color you want.” Bilbo assured as said nephew practically vibrated with excitement. “Just make sure your parents approve.”

“Yes!” Frodo jeered, fighting out of Bilbo’s grasp as he ran over to Bofur. “You hear that, Bofur? Uncle Bilbo says I can color my beard!”

Bilbo just shook his head as he laughed to himself before looking up at Dwalin. Dwalin, who quirked an equally amused eyebrow at him in question.

“There has never been a Baggins born that could grow anything on their face except bushy eyebrows. And that was once.” Bilbo explained, causing Dwalin to chuckle. “I… I’m sorry about that. To be honest, I wasn’t one-hundred-percent sure that Frodo would be here.”

“No, no. It’s fine. I’ve always liked kids, as Bofur can tell you.” Dwalin explained before sending Bilbo a wary look. “Is it… are you still okay for…?”

“Oh! Oh, yes, I am. I wasn’t quite sure Frodo would be under my care on Saturday, but Bofur was free, and he offered his babysitting services.” Bilbo explained. 

“Is that really wise?” Dwalin asked, causing Bofur to cry out with an indignant “Oi!”

“Well, he hasn’t lost any limbs yet.” Bilbo replied, and he laughed at Bofur’s huffing as he held Frodo in his arms. “No, but he’s good with Frodo, and Frodo makes sure Bofur doesn’t cause too much trouble. They’re very good pals, those two.”

“I can tell.” Dwalin explained as they both looked at Bofur and Frodo as the man placed his hat on Frodo’s head and it sunk down past his eyes. “Anyway, are you ready?”

“Ah, yes! Just let me grab my coat.”

Bilbo rushed to the back, sending Bofur a glare the man gave him a knowing grin, and he barely missed the wink he sent to Dwalin.

He really was going to hit Bofur when this was all over. Even if the date somehow went well.

He threw on his coat and went back to the front, but before he joined Dwalin, he went right to Frodo, who sat in Bofur’s lap as he adjusted the hat over his eyes.

“Okay, Frodo. I’m heading off with Mister Dwalin over there.” Bilbo explained. “I want you to be good for Bofur, alright? No funny business.”

“I promise.” Frodo replied with a grin, but Bilbo frowned.

“Don’t go crossing your fingers, now.” He told the boy sternly, and Frodo pouted as Bofur laughed. “Well, I might not be back by the time you go to bed, so goodnight and have pleasant dreams.”

“Goodnight, Bilbo!”

Bilbo grinned at him then and pushed the hat back enough to kiss the boy’s forehead. He then rounded his stern gaze on Bofur. “No funny business.”

Bofur just rolled his eyes. “I promise not to give him too much sugar, and I promise he’ll go to bed at a decent hour.”

Another look.

“Relatively decent, anyway.”

“I just don’t want him to be a zombie tomorrow.” Bilbo told him. “Be good! Both of you!”

“We will!” And he really didn’t trust those smiles.

“Well then,” Bilbo said, nerves jumbling in his stomach as he approached Dwalin and tried to send him his most charming smile. “Shall we?”

“Let’s.” Dwalin said, waving him out the door.

As they left the shop behind, Bilbo sent off some silent prayers.

One, was that Bofur and Frodo would not burn his house down.

Two, was that Ori would lock up shop properly without having to rush back because he forgot something.

And three was that this date would not lead to yet another mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will I go into further detail with Dwalin's PTSD? Probably. He was in the army, or at least was in this fic. 
> 
> And I really do think Bofur and Frodo would be awesome buddies. Even in canon!Hobbit, if Bofur ever visited Bilbo and he had Frodo at the time, Frodo would love that dwarf. They'd cause all sorts of mischief together. 
> 
> And maybe there will be some more crushing!Ori. Maybe. Dwori is a bit of a weakness of mine, too.


	4. Dive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THE DATE! And Bofur, you little shit...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this update took longer than you were hoping, I apologize. It was rather difficult to write, as I wanted to go in different directions all at once with this part. Also, introducing a little something that's kinda my take on a modern-day replacement for Thorin's gold sickness.

“I really do apologize about my nephew. I honestly didn’t think he’d be there by the time you came around, and it was rather rude of him to point out your beard.”

Dwalin just laughed at Bilbo’s second apology. They were walking to the parking lot around the back to his car, and Bilbo was trying his best to appeal to the man (even if it was only for just one date, which was likely, with Bilbo’s luck and all). Despite the creeping darkness, Bilbo felt relatively safe instead of jittery, like he usually felt when he had to go back that way.

“I don’t mind, really.” The larger man replied. “And considering the usual reaction my beard gets, I’d like to think his words were a compliment.”

Bilbo gave a short laugh at that. “Well, still…” He murmured. “With my luck, I’ll come back and he’ll have a beard made out of permanent marker!”

Dwalin chuckled at that, one hand in his pocket as the other swung by his side. “Do you mind if I ask you a question about Frodo?”

“No, I don’t mind.”

“Do you usually find him in your care?”

Bilbo shrugged at that question. “His parents travel a lot for work.” He explained. “They’re around when they can be, but when they can’t, I’m the only relative close enough to take care of him. That, and I’m the most sane.”

Bilbo looked up at him then, feeling an extra bubble of fear in his gut. “Is that… is that a problem...?”

But really, why would he be asking that? This was just their first date, and already they were talking about Frodo being in the picture. There were no guarantees that there would be other dates, or an actual relationship. Why would it matter?

“Oh, no!” Dwalin said, and from his tone of voice, it sounded like he was being honest. And earnest. Which was good. Hopefully. “I was just curious. There aren’t many uncles who have to take care of their nephews that often.”

Bilbo couldn’t help but smile, mostly from relief. “Well, we’re actually cousins.” He explained. “Distant cousins, to be more accurate. But with the age gap and everything, it just makes more sense for him to call me uncle. And you?”

Dwalin blinked. “Me?”

“Any nephews?” Bilbo asked and fought the urge to cringe. Already, they were prying rather deeply into their personal lives.

But Dwalin just grinned. “It’s more like your situation.” He explained. “Cousins. Lots of cousins, actually. Come from a large, close-knit family.”

“Lucky.” Bilbo remarked before he could stop. “Mine’s large, but we constantly avoid each other.”

Dwalin laughed at that. “Well, to be perfectly honest, I think that’s a blessing.” He told him. “From what you told me about you being the most sane.”

Bilbo barked out a laugh before he could stop, and he heard Dwalin chuckling at it. “Oh! I’m sorry.” He told him. “I shouldn’t have laughed...”

“Don’t be sorry.” Dwalin cut in. “It’s nice.”

Bilbo felt his face flame up at that, but before he could press the issue, Dwalin stepped forward a bit more, flourishing his hand that jingled with car keys.

“There she is!” He declared. “My other steed!”

Bilbo snorted at the label as he took in the car. While in good condition, it was clear that Dwalin put more stock into his bike than his car. There was nothing spectacular about it, as it was a simple model with no flashing lights or crazy accessories. He couldn’t for the life of him think of what it was called, for he was never very good with cars since he never liked them enough. It looked American, though, and that was really all he could tell.

There was really one notable characteristic about it, and it also reflected on Dwalin’s clothes. “I’m sensing a pattern here…” He told him, pointing at both the car and Dwalin.

“Well, it came in that color.” Dwalin explained as he tugged on his coat that matched the paint job on his car. “Never really felt like changing it. Besides, if you couldn’t tell, it’s a bit of a favorite of mine.”

Bilbo was already memorizing all the little facts he was learning about Dwalin, so ‘green is favorite color’ was easy to tuck away.

 _My eyes are green._ He also thought, and cursed himself for it as Dwalin unlocked the car doors.

“Shall we?”

“Yes, we shall.” And if there was even a slim chance of this going further, Bilbo needed to work on his flirtatious remarks.

**X**

Dwalin had wound up taking them to a dive that looked a lot cleaner than most of the dives Bilbo had gone to. It was easy to tell that Bofur was the one to inform Dwalin to take him to such a place, since the larger man seemed a little uncomfortable as they walked in, as if unsure if this was a proper place to take Bilbo. It was an easy fix, since he grinned up at Dwalin and led them to a booth right away. The table was a bit sticky, and the seat cushions squeaked, but Dwalin sent him a broad grin, and Bilbo found that he didn’t care. 

They ordered beers, and talked. They ordered a couple more, and their talks were filled with more laughter as the alcohol buzzed within them, easing Bilbo’s tensions as he found that the man was easy to talk to outside of the comfort of his friends being nearby. Sure, he was still mentally tallying how many drinks Dwalin was having (a learned habit from Thorin), but he was at least pacing himself sensibly whereas others (namely Thorin) would sometimes drink the things down like they were water and they were dying of thirst. 

Soon, food was ordered, and beers switched to water and (rather terrible tasting) coffee. Bilbo found himself learning more about the man in front of him as the night went on, pleasantly enough. Most of the men he dated liked to keep things secret. Dwalin, however, spoke freely of his occupations (a mechanic, though he used to work as a bouncer), his tastes in music (most of his favorites were old and had lots of guitar riffs, but he was rather varied otherwise. Except pop and country. Never pop and country), and other odd things (he hated talking about politics and other subjects considered rather “heavy” thanks to his brother; he liked the outdoors, and he couldn’t understand the appeal of anything science-fiction-y). They had differences, of course they did, but Bilbo found that there were a surprising number of things that they had in common. 

And just like the other day, Bilbo found himself completely at ease in Dwalin’s presence. He didn’t feel the need to keep quiet, or to stifle his laughter, or resist the urge to reach across and touch hands with the man. For Dwalin seemed to urge him to be as loud as he wanted, encouraged his laughter, and he was the one who reached across the table for Bilbo’s hand first. 

His compliments were also free-flowing. Weren’t forced out, weren’t at all what he was used to, and had nothing to do with any particular parts of his body. He tried to be as easy with his own, he really did (there was so much he could say about the man in front of him, even though most of it was inappropriate), but he’d stumble with it. He never felt the urge to say such things, or at least things that weren’t filled with heated intent and making him cringe even as he said them. But Dwalin just grinned at him, as if it was endearing. And Bilbo didn’t feel at all belittled because of it.

Bilbo was still marveling at how wonderful things seemed to be going when a peculiarly cheerful ringtone blared from Dwalin’s person. 

“Oh, for…” Dwalin groused, obviously not liking that he was interrupted, nor at how Bilbo was fighting the urge to giggle. “It’s Bofur. He picked the ringtone and locked it in, the bastard…”

“Yes, that sounds about right.” Bilbo remarked, smothering his laughter as best he could, which was made even more difficult when Dwalin seemed to be doing the same.

“What could he want now?” He asked before flicking a thick thumb across the screen and putting the phone to his ears. “Yes?... No, we’re not dead. Thanks for your concern… The crowd? Bit dead, but not too… Oh… _Oh_ …”

“What?” Bilbo asked, leaning forward. “Is something wrong?”

Dwalin just shook his head. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring him home… Yeah… Yeah, he can tell me…” He continued, and Bilbo couldn’t help but feel disappointed. “He’ll be safe and sound when you see him, I promise. Later.”

Dwalin clicked off before nodding to Bilbo. “I’d check the time, if I were you.”

Bilbo frowned before moving to do so, only to freeze. “Oh my god, we’ve been here for almost five hours!” He cried. “How have we not been kicked out, yet?”

Dwalin laughed. “We’re paying customers, I guess.” He replied. “I’m surprised, though. They haven’t even tried, and the crowds are typically more busy.”

“Well…” Bilbo sighed, exhaustion now slowly creeping into his frame as he saw Dwalin’s bright eyes twinkle. “I guess time flies when you’re having fun.”

Something in Dwalin seemed to ease as they grinned at each other. “Indeed it does.”

They left the dive with Bilbo tucked into Dwalin’s side, for sitting in one place for so long had Bilbo’s legs wobbling. When Dwalin seemed hesitant to pull away when they stepped into the late evening air, Bilbo slung his small arm around him, and Dwalin renewed the strength of his embrace. He stayed there, tucked into Dwalin’s side, all the way to his car. 

It wasn’t until they were driving, Bilbo giving Dwalin instructions on how to get to his home, that the doubts started to sink in. Was this it? Would this be the only date they’d have? Could there be other dates, and would Dwalin _want_ to go on other dates? Would he want to see where this would lead? Because Bilbo actually wanted to, which was a terrifyingly sober thought. For Dwalin could turn into something similar to the other men he’d dated. He could be like everyone else. But he was so perfect that it almost seemed unlikely. No one else made Bilbo feel so comfortable, and almost certain that it could work. But just because Bilbo was thinking these things didn’t necessarily mean Dwalin was as well. He could be wanting the night to end and have it be just that. He might never want to have anything to do with him ever again.

“I had an amazing time.” Bilbo told him just as Dwalin was making the final turn.

“So did I.” Dwalin replied, smiling wide as his eyes briefly flicked in his direction. “To be honest, I would’ve liked to do something with you other than sitting around drinking beers all night.”

Bilbo, sensing an opportunity, merely grinned at him despite his nerves. “Well, we’ll just have to save that for next time, then.”

“Next time?” Oh, dear. Bilbo didn’t like his tone. 

“Well, of course.” Bilbo replied, voice wavering slightly. “I had fun, and… I like you. I would like to go out again. On a date. Another one, anyway. That is, if _you_ want, but-.”

“No, I do.” Dwalin cut in just as they pulled up in front of his house, and when he smiled at him, Bilbo believed him. “I really do.”

Bilbo felt his face ache at the size of his own smile. “Great.” He replied. “So, next time, then.”

“Next time.” Dwalin assured, nodding and still smiling.

“Good.” Bilbo stated, nodding, and just for assurance. “You still have my number, then?”

Dwalin pulled out his phone and made a few swiping motions. “I do.”

Bilbo blinked as his phone went off. Frowning, he fumbled for it, only to laugh at the message on the screen.

**And now you have mine.**

“Then I’ll call you.” Bilbo laughed out as Dwalin chuckled.

“Or I’ll call you.” He replied, arm stretching across to Bilbo’s seat. “Whichever comes first.”

“Good. Well then…” Bilbo sighed out, glancing at Dwalin. He thought out his next move for a while before deciding “to hell with it”, and leaning across to kiss Dwalin on his beard-covered cheek. 

He managed to plant one right next to Dwalin’s lips, for the man had twisted his head slightly. Bilbo pulled back a bit, staring at him, alternating between focusing on his bright eyes and lips framed by a clean and well-groomed beard. He couldn’t stop his eyes from fluttering as he felt callused hands reach up and cup his face. 

When Dwalin pulled him into that kiss, Bilbo went in without a fight. And oh, it was nice. The scrape of hair against his chin and cheeks, the soft, gentle caress of surprisingly soft lips on his slightly-chapped ones, the warm breath and pleased hum that shook Bilbo’s very bones. 

Just as he felt Dwalin’s tongue brush at the seam of his lips, the car moved a little and then jerked to a stop. Causing them to lurch towards the dash in a mess of clashing teeth, painfully bumping noses, cursing and embarrassment.

“Shit, sorry! Forgot to put the break on…” Dwalin snarled at his own foolishness, and Bilbo would’ve laughed at how red he had gotten if he wasn’t in the same state.

“Perhaps it was for the best.” Bilbo told him before rushing on to continue. “To stop for now, anyway. We’d… I’d… it would be best to not rush things…”

“You’re probably right.” Dwalin said, relaxing. “It is late, and Bofur and your nephew must be waiting for you.”

“Yes.” Bilbo confirmed. “I just hope nothing’s too damaged.”

Bilbo grinned as Dwalin laughed, glad that it eased the tension. Still grinning, he stretched up one more time and pecked one last kiss onto Dwalin’s grinning lips.

“Good night, then.” Bilbo replied, unbuckling his seatbelt and stepping out of the car. “I’ll call you!”

“Not if I call you first!”

Bilbo laughed, waving him off as he practically skipped to his door, pausing only to turn and wave goodbye to the large man before he sped off into the night. He floated into his home, legs still wobbly, hair mussed and smelling of cheap beer and cigarettes. None of that mattered, though. Because Dwalin wanted to go out again. Dwalin had his number, and he had his. Dwalin, who was surprisingly kind, good, smart, and funny. Dwalin, who would be different. Hopefully.

Bofur was sitting on his couch in the living room, and he gave Bilbo a once over before sending him a smug grin. “Good date?”

Bilbo nodded, not caring in the slightest how smug Bofur was acting. “There might be a next time, even.” He informed his friend. “We exchanged numbers. Either he’ll call, or I’ll call. Whichever comes first.”

Bofur chuckled. “I told you!”

“You didn’t tell me shit!” Bilbo laughed, taking off his coat and kicking his friends feet of his coffee table. “You basically just shoved me at him.”

“Same thing!” Bofur replied, waiting for Bilbo to take a seat next to him before plopping his kicked feet onto Bilbo’s lap. “Mind if I camp out here? It’ll be late, and Bifur gets mighty angry when I sneak in these days.”

“As long as you made sure he knows.” Bilbo told him. “How was Frodo?”

“Good.” Bofur assured. “Watched some telly and only had a few biscuits instead of a full box.”

Bilbo hummed happily, stopping when Bofur fidgeted. “Although…”

“Oh, now what?”

“Well, you might want to take care of making sure his face is extra clean when his parents come by to pick him up.” His friend explained. “And hide the blue markers from now on.”

“Oh, _damn_ …”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOFUR YOU SHOULD'VE HIDDEN THEM IN THE FIRST PLACE!!!
> 
> EDIT: Also, some of you have expressed concerns about my little Ori plot bunny, so I thought I'd address it in this little box. No, it won't become some sordid love triangle or become a polyamorous romance. I was just going to have Ori have a bit of a crush on Dwalin for a little while, and then -Name has been removed because SPOILERS- would come in and all would be well.
> 
> So no, Ori won't be heartbroken.
> 
> Yes, I do have plans for a (Dwarf)/Ori pairing.
> 
> Hope that answers things!


	5. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Bilbo is uncertain, and Gandalf hates playing a wizard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FIIINALLY!!!
> 
> I FINALLY managed to write this chapter and end it in a place that I was relatively okay with. It might be a bit short, and I apologize, but it was HARD. Because I've got the entire plot all planned out, but the gaps are frikkin tricky to fill in.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

It had been a few months, and there had been quite a few dates since that first one, and Bilbo found that he was happier than he had been in quite some time. 

He never thought he would be so comfortable with Dwalin. So happy with him. So ridiculously excited whenever his phone rang and the caller ID told him that it was Dwalin on the other end. How little he minded almost mindlessly chatting with him until the wee hours of the morning and causing his phone bill to be higher than it had ever been since he finally caved and got one. How thrilled he was when Bilbo held his hand or curled around him and Dwalin didn’t push him away, and in fact squeezed Bilbo right back or pulled him in closer. How Dwalin was quite alright with going in the pace that Bilbo set for them, for while he felt ridiculously besotted with the large man with blue facial hair, he was still wary. Still cautious.

Bilbo didn’t mind Dwalin’s rules, either. How he was insistent that he would pay if he was the one to set the date (“I don’t like charity, no matter what other name it comes in”). How Dwalin didn’t mind Bilbo spending the night in his apartment, but didn’t want to spend the night at Bilbo’s home. Bilbo wasn’t even afraid when Dwalin would tense and get a far away look in his eyes if there was a too-loud noise, like a fire alarm or a car backfiring. He just did what he could and waited for Dwalin to come back and smile at him. 

There was only one thing that Bilbo did mind, and that was not knowing where exactly they stood with each other. Sure, they went out on dates, held hands, cuddled, and Bilbo was finally able to sleep in bed with Dwalin instead of the sofa; but they never vocally said what they were to each other. Bilbo didn’t know if they were just casually dating still or if it was serious. It bothered Bilbo, but he never worked up the nerve to bring it up, and Dwalin never did, either.

He had pushed it out of his mind that day, for it was the monthly reading circle for the children, and Gandalf was the one reading to them today.

Gandalf, who was an old friend of his mother’s. Who was there at almost every significant moment of Bilbo’s life until his parents died, and then was there a bit more frequently than that. Who, though he never knew the full details of Bilbo’s failed relationships, seemed to know enough about them not to press when Bilbo was melancholy after yet another breakup. Who loved to read to the children, but _loathed_ the wizard hat that Bilbo forced onto his head for it. 

Bilbo smiled at the scene in front of him. Of Gandalf, kind, wise old Gandalf, telling the tale from the book in his hands in a tone that spoke of mystery and wonder, and leaving all the little ones in awe. Even Ori, who was standing behind the counter, seemed a little mystified himself. He always was, Ori, ever since he was one of the children Gandalf would read to quite some time ago. 

Bilbo was so distracted that he didn’t hear the bell above the door. Didn’t know a tall, familiar figure had strolled into the shop until he felt a warm arm drape across his shoulders. 

He jumped, going tense at the contact, only for it to melt away into genuine surprise when he saw Dwalin smiling down at him.

“Oh, hello!” He whispered so not to disrupt anything, wrapping his own arm around Dwalin’s waist as he tilted his forehead up so Dwalin could kiss it more easily. “You startled me.”

“My most sincere apologies.” Dwalin replied, sounding mostly like anything but, and the larger man only chuckled when Bilbo rolled his eyes at him. 

“Of course.” He groused playfully, even as Dwalin’s hold tightened a little. “I didn’t know you’d be coming by, today.”

“Well, I finished up early at the shop.” Dwalin explained. “Thought I’d surprise you.”

“And what a pleasant surprise it is.” Bilbo told him with a smile, and it got wider when Dwalin returned it.

They were interrupted by cheers and applause, signaling the end of the story circle, and Gandalf stood and bowed slowly as his joints cracked and popped. Bilbo couldn’t help but chortle a little when Gandalf excused himself from the children and promptly yanked his hat off. It would’ve gone into the trash, but Ori had swooped in before he could try.

That was when Ori noticed them. “Oh! Mister Dwalin! I didn’t know you were here.” He cried, walking up to them, and Bilbo fidgeted when Gandalf looked over at them and quirked an eyebrow. The old man then smirked, the bastard.

“I just snuck in.” Dwalin explained. “And please, none of this ‘mister’ stuff.”

Ori’s cheeks pinkened at that. “Of course.” He said. “Would you like anything? We have coffee, and biscuits, and-.”

“No, no. As tempted as I am, I was hoping to drag Bilbo here out for lunch.” Dwalin cut in, looking down at him. “If that’s alright.”

Bilbo couldn’t want anything more, but he turned to Ori first. “Could you handle the shop while I’m out?”

“Sure.” He stated. “It won’t be a problem.”

“What won’t be a problem, dare I ask?” 

Bilbo fought the urge to jump as Gandalf stared down at them. The old man was quiet in his movements, if he needed to be, and he apparently wanted to use such a skill now.

“Ah, Gandalf!” Bilbo stated, urging Dwalin forward a bit. “Dwalin, this is Gandalf, an old friend of mine, and of my mother’s. Gandalf, this is Dwalin Fundinson, my boyfriend.”

As soon as the word flew out of his mouth, he instantly regretted it. He had no idea if Dwalin was okay with it, nor if they were truly that serious. But it slipped out, and Bilbo was afraid that Dwalin would send him a look, or try to correct him, leading to yet another strand of heartbreak. Because men had done this before, denied their relationship and causing a downward spiral from there. 

But Dwalin smiled broadly and shook Gandalf’s offered hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Mister Gandalf.”

Something in Bilbo eased, and made him feel dizzy with relief, feeling Dwalin’s grip on his shoulder strengthen as Gandalf’s own grin broadened.

“Just Gandalf is fine, Mister Dwalin.” Gandalf replied. “And it’s truly a pleasure to meet the man that has made Bilbo so happy.”

Bilbo felt his face heat, even as Dwalin squeezed his shoulder affectionately.

“Dwalin is fine as well, Gandalf.” Dwalin corrected, and Bilbo swore he saw his own cheeks go a little pink. 

“Well, don’t let us keep you waiting, then.” Gandalf urged. “I’ll help Ori for a while. Make sure the children don’t destroy the shop. Is our tea day still on schedule?”

“Of course.” Bilbo assured, even as he and Dwalin began to walk to the door. “I’ll see you on Sunday!”

“Have fun!” Ori called, just as they left the shop, and Bilbo just waved at Ori, hoping he wouldn’t be too overwhelmed with the children and their parents. 

They walked down the road, for Bilbo could tell that Dwalin took his bike to the shop (he was wearing his leathers, and _oh_ , his leathers), and Bilbo was quite happy to remain tucked into Dwalin’s side. It always sent a little thrill through him that Dwalin was quite comfortable with such public displays, even encouraging them. No one ever wanted to do that with Bilbo, before.

“You seemed scared.” Dwalin finally spoke after a moment, causing Bilbo to look up at him. “When you introduced me. Why?”

“Oh…” Bilbo muttered, feeling nerves shoot through him and make his throat tighten. “Well, we never really talked about… I wasn’t sure if you were alright being introduced my friends, particularly being introduced as my… well…”

“Boyfriend?” Dwalin filled in, and Bilbo only relaxed minutely as his large thumb rubbed back and forth on his shoulder, massaging and trying to comfort. “I admit, the term’s juvenile, but I thought it was given that we were serious… are we…?”

“Oh, yes! Yes, we are!” Bilbo rushed to fill in. “I just… we never talked about it, and… well… I’ve had a similar situation, and… well, it didn’t end well… I was going to ask, but-… I’m sorry, I know this sounds awful-.”

“Hey,” Dwalin cut in, forcing them to pause. “I’m sorry that you thought something like that, but believe me when I say that I _am_ serious, and that other guy was a prick.”

“I’m sorry for not bringing it up before.” Bilbo replied after giggling over Dwalin's comment, starting to relax a little. “And I am serious. Really, I am.”

“And I believe you, and I hope that you believe me when I say that I am as well.”

“I do.” Bilbo assured, flinching as someone brushed past them. “Believe me, I do, but… can we keep walking? I feel terrible for standing in the middle of the pavement and getting in everyone’s way.”

Dwalin barked a laugh, tucking Bilbo closer into his side. “Of course.” He replied, and he continued to lead Bilbo along. “Just know that you can talk to me about anything, and ask me anything. Don’t feel like you can’t. I want you to trust me, okay?”

“Okay.” Bilbo replied. “And I do. Trust you, that is.”

And it was partially true, at least. At least true enough that Bilbo now knew where he stood, and he could believe Dwalin when he told him. Because Dwalin was brutally honest, and Bilbo could rely on Dwalin telling him the truth. But he couldn’t fully trust Dwalin, not with all that had happened to him. What others did to him. But he was on his way, and he hoped that Dwalin was patient enough to wait for Bilbo to trust him completely.

And when Dwalin, his _boyfriend_ , beamed at him, Bilbo knew that he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided that Ori's crush wouldn't be THAT kind of crush. It would be more of an admiring thing, where he thinks Dwalin is PERFECT BOYFRIEND material, and Bilbo is lucky to have him, and he wishes that he could have something similar... except with less facial hair.
> 
> Hopefully, the next chapter will come along more smoothly than this one.


	6. Worries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo takes some chances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updaaate!
> 
> Sorry it took so long. Other fics have been eating at me and I had to purge them before working on this. Hopefully the next chapter won't take as long.

“Dwalin?”

Bilbo felt more than heard the larger man hum in response from his place. His place being sprawled on top of him as Dwalin dozed. Yes, Dwalin had truly fallen asleep and snored so loudly that Bilbo’s ears were ringing. And yes, Bilbo’s arm was asleep from being sandwiched in-between Dwalin’s side and his meaty arm. But Bilbo didn’t care in the slightest, for despite some minor discomforts, he felt quite happy laying on top of him. He rarely did this in any of his previous relationships, and he enjoyed this rare pleasure, even though it wasn’t too rare now, since it seemed Dwalin enjoyed this just as much as he did.

But it was the last thing on his mind at the moment, for Bilbo was thinking, and sometimes that could be dangerous. Especially when it revolved around certain people close to him.

Despite dating for five months, _much_ longer than what Bilbo had predicted, Dwalin had yet to have any real interactions with Frodo. Every once in a while, they would be in the same room, and Dwalin would say high and converse with the young boy for a few minutes, but that was it. That was the extent of it. And if Bilbo wanted this to be a serious relationship, he knew that Dwalin would have to spend more time with his nephew. He was just worried that Dwalin wouldn’t want to. That he didn’t want anything to do with his nephew, just like the others. But Dwalin had proven Bilbo wrong before, and he hoped he would do it again.

He just need to broach the topic slowly.

“I hear the weather’s going to be pleasant on Friday.” He continued, fingering Dwalin’s threadbare shirt.

“So did I.” The larger man replied, and Bilbo shivered when he felt his large hand stroke his back. “Going to be a bit windy, though.”

Ah, the perfect segway. “Good kite-flying weather.” He remarked. “If you like that sort of thing.”

“Bilbo?” Dwalin spoke slowly. “Is there something you want to ask me?”

Bilbo bit his lip before propping himself on his boyfriend’s chest. “I just…” He started, focusing on the chest instead of his face. “It’s been a rather long time coming, but… I wanted… I would like it if you could get to know Frodo better. With me along, of course, because he’s my family, and he’s important to me. So… I was wondering… if you would like to go with us to fly kites on Friday…? So we could all kind of… fly kites and… bond, and…”

Bilbo stopped, allowing Dwalin to guide his head up to look at him, feeling his tension melt when he saw Dwalin smiling brightly at him.

“I’d love to.” He told him.

“Oh, good.” Bilbo breathed, leaning up to kiss the side of Dwalin’s mouth, stroking his fingers through his beard. It was fading, now, and Dwalin was debating whether or not he wanted to recolor it or not.

“About time, if you don’t mind me saying.” Dwalin told him, squeezing the small man a little. “I was wondering when I would get to meet the family properly.”

Bilbo laughed before he could stop himself. “I’m sorry it took so long to ask…” He told him. “I just… I wanted to make sure everyone would be comfortable. Even Frodo. It’s… he’s wary. He doesn’t like most of the men I hang out with.”

Not the most eloquent response, but it was better than telling Dwalin that pretty much every boyfriend he had before him hated his poor nephew, and they were equally hated in turn.

Dwalin hummed, nodding, as if he understood. Bilbo took the topic as closed and nuzzled his chest.

“Do you think he’ll like me?” Dwalin eventually asked, and Bilbo felt rather touched that he sounded concerned himself.

“I should think so.” Bilbo told him, lips quirking at a memory. “He has already tried to emulate your beard.”

Dwalin barked a laugh, and Bilbo giggled along with him, causing them to bounce off each other as their bodies shook.

“Friday afternoon in a park flying kites.” Dwalin breathed after they calmed down, looking at Bilbo. “Sounds like fun.”

Bilbo beamed right back at him. “Indeed it does.”

**xxx**

Friday afternoon was perfect in a lot of ways, besides kite flying. It was perfect in ways that Bilbo couldn’t even predict.

When Dwalin first picked them up, Frodo was himself: shy, quiet, and a little intimidated by Dwalin. He always was, poor boy, but the shocking color of Dwalin’s beard helped ease it, but only just. Bilbo, of course, was worried. Worried that Frodo wouldn’t like Dwalin, that Dwalin would lose patience with the young boy.

But over the course of that afternoon, a lot of those worries were promptly squashed. It didn’t take long for Dwalin to get Frodo to relax around him, helping him with his kite by giving pointers and cracking jokes. He would help with running the kite along and throwing it up into the breeze while Bilbo helped Frodo hold on (the roles were reversed for only a short period of time, but that was only because Bilbo had a horrible arm, and just blamed his height for not being able to handle a kite properly). Dwalin had Frodo laughing, smiling, and squealing. And Dwalin was treating Frodo with the upmost respect, not once snapping or sighing in irritation. He seemed to genuinely enjoy spending time with the boy.

What had Bilbo frozen, absolutely floored, however, was when Dwalin scooped the young boy up and held him tight, laughing all the while. Frodo didn’t protest, squealing and giggling and clutching Dwalin back. Frodo never felt comfortable enough with anyone outside of his immediate family to welcome such an embrace. And no one Bilbo dated ever dared to try.

It was the look that really hit Bilbo. The look Dwalin sent his way, free and open, smiling wide under his beard.

That look made Bilbo realize that he was in deep. Deeper than ever before. For he never felt so much love towards a man in his life. So much happiness to see Frodo with Dwalin. So much trust that Dwalin wouldn’t hurt Frodo. Wouldn’t hurt _Bilbo_.

And that terrified him.

“I was thinking that we deserve a treat.” Dwalin spoke, breaking Bilbo’s thought process. “I was going to take him to get some ice cream. Is that alright?”

“Yes. That actually sounds quite good.” Bilbo said, smiling. “Shall we?”

They walked to a little parlor not too far from the park, Frodo speaking a mile a minute from his place on Dwalin’s shoulders and Bilbo smiling at them despite the fear clenching his gut. He waited until Dwalin had told him he’d be getting it before stepping aside and whipping out his phone, dialing a number he knew by heart.

“Hullo?” Bofur’s gruff voice cracked through when the ringing stopped. “Bofur speaking.”

“Bofur!” Bilbo hissed, looking over his shoulder. “Bofur, I don’t know what to do!”

“Bilbo?” His friend questioned, sounding desperately worried. “Bilbo, what’s wrong?”

“I… Now, please refrain from calling me an idiot about this for a short while, but…” Bilbo swallowed. Hard. “I love Dwalin.”

There was a long silence, and Bilbo actually thought the call was disconnected until Bofur spoke again.

“I kinda figured that, yes…” He drawled slowly. “Is that necessarily a _bad_ thing?”

“It very well could be, yes!” Bilbo hissed, making sure that Dwalin was still inside with Frodo. “Because I love him, Bofur, and this is where it always goes to pot for me! This is when something happens. Something that always gets me burned. Hurts me, and I’m scared, really, _truly_ scared…!”

Bilbo swallowed around the lump in his throat. “I really do love him, Bofur.” He breathed. “And I trust him, but what if something happens? What if he’s like everyone else? What if he doesn't feel the same? I can’t get hurt again, Bofur. I can’t let that happen! And not to Frodo because, oh Bofur, he likes Dwalin too.”

He heard Bofur let out a deep sigh. “Bilbo, I can’t tell you that you’re wrong, because even I can’t say for sure everything won’t go to shit.” He told him. “ _However_ , what I _can_ tell you is that you’ll never know until you try!”

“But what if-!”

“Bilbo, listen.” Bofur cut in. “I’m going to tell you something that you’ve heard me say before, and I might add some things, but it’s basically the same. And I want you to listen. Okay?”

Bilbo nodded before realizing that Bofur couldn’t see him. “Yeah, okay.”

“Dwalin is a good man.” Bofur spoke, slowly and firmly. “I’ve known him practically all my life, and the only illegal thing he’s ever done in his life was beat up some punk in an alley because he was trying to do the same to a waitress from a bar. He’s not like those other men you’ve dated, because he would never intentionally hurt someone, because he knows from experience how painful it can be.”

Bilbo felt his throat burn at the implications of those words.

“I’m not saying that Dwalin is your ticket to a happily ever after or anything, but he could be. All you need is to have a little faith, Bilbo. You’ve got to trust him, and it’s scary as well, especially for you, but it’ll be worse if you don’t. Because then you’re ensuring some heartache along the line.” Bofur continued before releasing another side. “And because you’re a blind idiot if you don’t see that Dwalin’s ass over tits for you, too.”

Bilbo had hoped, of course, but never fully allowed himself to believe it. “You think so?”

“Even _Ori_ thinks so, Bilbo.” Bofur pleaded. “Now, please do us all a favor: Tell him and have faith in him. He’s got plenty of it in you, if I know him, and I do. Alright?”

“Not completely, but…” Bilbo replied, honestly. “I’ll try.”

“Good.” Bofur stated firmly. “Now I’m hanging up. I was taking a very lovely nap and your damn call disturbed it.”

Bilbo snorted into the mouth piece before hanging up. Just as he was pocketing his phone, Frodo came running out with Dwalin close behind.

“Everything alright, then?” Dwalin asked, handing Bilbo his simple vanilla soft serve.

“Yeah.” Bilbo replied, and it was. Almost, anyway.

 

When they got home, Bilbo made sure Frodo was inside before he decided to address what was gnawing at him most of the day.

“Dwalin?”

Dwalin, who was getting ready to head back to his car, turned around and frowned at Bilbo. “Yes?” He asked, concern in his voice. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I had a great time, and everything. Frodo did too, of course…” Bilbo spoke, approaching Dwalin as his heart hammered in his ears. “It’s just…”

Bilbo bit his lip, reaching out and grabbing one of Dwalin’s hands in both his own. He hoped Bofur was right. Hoped that he wasn’t pushing for too much. That he wasn’t about to ruin something that he didn’t know he wanted desperately until not too long ago.

Eventually, Bilbo managed to look back up at Dwalin, hoping his voice wouldn’t crack and decided to just _say it_. “I love you.”

Instead of cringing, or awkward mumblings, or even just pulling away and booking it (that has happened before), Dwalin’s concerned face melted into a brilliant smile. It was the most relaxed, wide, winning smile he ever saw, and Bilbo felt his lips twitch to echo it.

“I love you, too.” Dwalin replied softly while squeezing his hand, and Bilbo really did smile in return. In fact, he reached up with one hand to pull Dwalin’s head down for a kiss. One that Dwalin pushed into readily, cupping Bilbo’s face when he moved his hands to tangle into Dwalin’s shirt.

“I do…” Bilbo breathed when they parted. “Really, I do, and I’m sorry it took me so long to say it, but-.”

“It’s okay, I know. And I knew. Well, I figured, at least…” Dwalin told him, kissing his nose. “But it’s nice to hear it.”

“Same here.” He replied, though Bilbo wasn't sure if it really was okay, but he was going to remedy that. As soon as possible.

Because he really did love Dwalin. And now that he knew that Dwalin loved him back, he was more willing to trust him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeeeeeeep.
> 
> EDIT: Okay, for some reason, it keeps bolding the ending. And I haven't put in the text to do so. WTF?
> 
> EDIT PART DEUX: FIXED IT!!! Totally forgot I could switch from HTML to Rich text. Deeeerp. Anyway, thanks **Peace** for mentioning that.


	7. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bilbo talks to Frodo and meets a certain someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long!
> 
> ALL I CAN SAY HIS I HAD NO IDEA WHERE TO GO!

They didn’t linger for long. They couldn’t, unfortunately, for Dwalin had work that evening and he was already running a risk for running late. So there were only a few more kisses, many promises for phone calls, and plans for another get together before Dwalin was driving off and Bilbo went inside.

He found Frodo fast asleep on the couch, and he couldn’t find it in him to mind that the young boy still had his shoes on. Bilbo was far too happy to care, and Frodo was pretty tuckered out from such an exciting day.

Bilbo moved, then, carefully kneeling in front of his nephew and tugging off his dirt-covered sneakers.

“Uncle Bilbo?”

Bilbo hummed, smiling at his nephew as Frodo looked at him with bleary, sleep-filled eyes. “Yes, Frodo?”

“Is Mister Dwalin your boyfriend?”

Bilbo nodded, straightening his pants as he stood. Frodo had been sat down by both Bilbo and his parents when the boy was old enough to know about his uncle’s preferences (around the time when Bilbo started feeling comfortable introducing Frodo to who he was dating at the time). He was young, but seemed to understand, even though he announced rather loudly to his friends that his uncle was gay the next day (they later told him that such things were inappropriate). The only problems Frodo ever had were Bilbo’s actual dates, and how he didn’t like them. Bilbo couldn’t fault the boy for that.

He just hoped Frodo approved of Dwalin.

“Yes, Frodo. He is.” Bilbo replied. “And I hope he will be for a long time. Do you think that will be okay?”

Frodo grinned then. “Yeah.” He said around a small yawn. “I like him. He was nice.”

Bilbo felt something ease in him. “Good. I do too.” He told the young boy. “Do you think you can make it to bed?”

Frodo frowned, stretching an arm out. “Carry me?”

Bilbo chuckled, stepping over and scooping Frodo up into his arms. “Of course, lad.”

It was hard, especially when he had to walk up the steps, and Frodo wasn’t all that small anymore. But Bilbo managed to take Frodo up to his room without too many difficulties.

“Uncle Bilbo?” Frodo piped up just as Bilbo put him in the bed, tucking the covers around his small form.

“Yes?”

“Is Dwalin my uncle too, now?”

Bilbo froze at those words, looking at Frodo’s bright blue eyes as they rolled around in his head. He had just told Dwalin he loved him mere moments before. Now, after Frodo gave him his own stamp of approval, he was asking if Dwalin was his _uncle_. It brought on thoughts that were coming in far too soon: Living in the country house that his parents left him in their will with Dwalin to wake up next to. Dwalin’s beard gray on his wrinkled faced, but still with that large streak of blue that he would stubbornly keep dying in. Gold bands on their respective fingers.

He put those thoughts away, because they _really_ were far too soon.

But now, he needed to tell Frodo _something_.

“Only if you want him to be.” Was what he settled for.

Frodo mumbled into the covers. “Maybe.” He finally replied. “One day.”

Bilbo nodded, face serious. It really was an acceptable answer that he agreed with.

“He needs to read to me first.” That part. Not so much.

**xxx**

People of all ages were welcome to Bilbo’s bookstore, and people of all ages entered his bookstore. Young and old, of conservative dress and, well, otherwise, everyone came in for a book. Which was why this customer wasn’t too much of a shock. For while said customer didn’t look _too_ old, his hair said different.

Even Ori, who never poked fun at anyone, had said, “He looks like Father Christmas!”

The business suit with the red tie didn’t help much in dissuading that notion. For he had a beard that, though not long, was a shock of white that went with his hair. He was well-groomed, otherwise, and he had a peculiar twinkle in his eyes.

He really did look like Father Christmas. And Ori wouldn’t stop giggling over it.

“I’ll take care of him.” Bilbo finally breathed out as Ori’s face went red from trying to suppress his laughter. “Clearly, you need to collect yourself.”

Ori looked quite chastened at his words as he ducked his head. “Sorry, Mister Baggins…”

It was unfair, in Bilbo’s opinion, that Ori could pull off such a guilt-ridden look so well. He threw him a bone, then. “Do you want me to see if you’re on the naughty list, this year?”

Ori snorted rather loudly at that, stumbling towards the back. “Mister Baggins!”

Bilbo covered up his own laughter with a cough before approaching the older gentleman. “Good afternoon!” He greeted, feeling rather grateful that the man smiled at him in turn. “Can I help you find anything today?”

“Oh, not right now, lad. I’m currently browsing.” He replied, looking at the shelves again, only to do a double take with a curious look. “Although… tell me, do you know someone by the name of Bilbo Baggins?”

Bilbo felt a little uneasy, for people rarely sought him out like this. “Actually, that’s me. I’m Bilbo Baggins.” He answered. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Really?” The older man replied, eyes wide before his grin shifted into something that unsettled him. “Well, this is surprising. I was expecting someone different!”

Bilbo blinked. “Pardon?”

“Ah! Forgive me, where are my manners?” The man stated before holding out a hand for Bilbo to shake. “I’m Balin Fundinson. I believe you know my brother.”

“B-Balin?” Bilbo sputtered, numbly shaking his hand, because he certainly wasn’t expecting that. Wasn’t even _prepared_ for that. He heard stories about Balin, though, from Dwalin. About how his older brother worked with the government, but even he didn’t know where or how. About how he always pestered him to do what would be best. About how he disapproved of his choices when it came to the army, his hair…

His partners…

The man in front of him was also the man that Bilbo selected books for, inadvertently. Now, as he saw the face of the man Dwalin wanted to tease with one of his favorite past times, he wanted to regret ever choosing the books he did. 

“Aye.” Balin replied, brow quirking. “I take it he’s mentioned me? All bad, I assume?”

“Ah-No! No, not… _all_ bad!” He protested. “Erm-I… Sorry, it’s just… wasn’t expecting to meet you today. And like this.”

Balin barked a laugh. “Well, it wouldn’t be a surprise visit if I told anyone, now would it?” 

“True…” Bilbo muttered, fidgeting a little. Now he was worried. He never dealt with something like this before: Never met a family member of any of the men he ever dated. Never had to socialize with him, or try to prove his worth. To say he was uncomfortable would be a great understatement. “Well, it’s…a surprise… still not sure if it’s pleasant or not…”

He immediately slapped a hand over his mouth, because he didn’t mean to say that out loud. Didn’t even dare to think it, even. But Balin just laughed, eyes bright and cheerful, and Bilbo swore that if the man wore red, he’d ask if he was getting that new car for Christmas like he wanted.

“Well, I’m personally enjoying myself so far!” He responded, and Bilbo chuckled before he could stop himself. 

The pleasant mood and laughter was cut off when the bell burst open, causing Bilbo to jump in shock and Ori to burst through from the back. Balin remained cool as a cucumber, and Bilbo couldn’t understand why. 

For Dwalin was there, huffing deep breaths and ringing his hands. If it weren’t for the flush on his furious-looking face, Bilbo would’ve been outright terrified of his boyfriend, even though he did look rather… terrifying.

Balin must be used to it, for he merely waved at him. “Afternoon, brother!”

“What the hell are you doing here!?” Dwalin snarled in response, stomping forward and putting himself in front of Bilbo. 

“Visiting town, checking the sights and see what all’s changed.” His brother explained. “I just so happened to meet your boyfriend. Charming fellow. I can see why you can’t stop talking about him.”

Bilbo flushed, despite himself and Dwalin’s sputterings. He talked about him. _Him_. If it weren’t for the fact that his brother was here, he would wrap himself around his boyfriend in a heartbeat. 

“Bullshit!” The large man hissed. “You just can’t keep your nose out of my business, can you? Can’t let me try to be happy?”

“Now, Dwalin-.”

“What lie did you tell him this time, Balin? That you could get him arrested? Deported? That I was really a government agent and couldn’t afford a relationship because it would risk his safety?”

“I admit, the last one was never my best.” Balin cut in finally. “I merely just expressed my shock that you seemed to finally picked a good one.”

“How da-… What?”

“What?” Bilbo parroted, leaning around Dwalin’s girth to catch Balin’s wink.

“Oh yes. Charming fellow you got there. Very polite. And his police record isn’t all that terrible. Only a few B and E’s… Vandalism… Public intoxication, of age and underage… And that indecency one… Haha!”

“Oh lord…” Bilbo groused, hiding his face in Dwalin’s back. It wasn't like this was new. He had mentioned to Dwalin before that he had gotten into... trouble. But he never went into detail. And he _never_ thought that his _brother_ would find out.

What kind of government work did Balin actually _do_?

“So, in the end, dear brother, I was not trying to tear your relationship asunder.” He had continued. “Merely giving my blessing and inviting you both over to dinner tomorrow night.”

Dwalin hummed and hawed over it before looking down at Bilbo, who finally lifted his face from hiding.

“Will seven do?” He finally asked in a soft voice. “And what should I bring?”

“Oh, just a couple bottles of wine. Nothing fancy.” Balin explained. “I’m sure Dwalin will help you get there, times and what not. Now, I must be going. I have a meeting with… well, someone important. It was nice seeing you again, brother, and very nice to meet you, Mister Baggins.”

“A-And you…” Bilbo sputtered, even as Dwalin numbly pulled him into his side.

“Afternoon!” And like that, Balin had left the store, where he then proceeded to slip into a sleek, black car that sped off with eerie silence.

“Oh… well, that was…” Bilbo finally managed to speak, looking up at Dwalin. “Interesting…”

Dwalin snorted, rubbing his face. “Tell me about it.” He groused. “Sorry about that. I honestly had no idea he was in town, let alone intent on meeting you.”

“No! No, it’s fine, love!” He assured, rubbing Dwalin’s back and relishing in the warmth under his palms and in the smile he gave him at his nickname. “If anything, tomorrow night certainly will be interesting.”

Dwalin groaned. “You don’t know the half of it.”

Bilbo snorted, bouncing up on the balls of his feet as he waited for Dwalin to kiss him. “Until then,” He murmured when he finally got it. “How about we go out to lunch now? Bring Ori along? Bofur’s been working at his brother’s place, and they make the most fantastic food.”

“Absolutely. Just one thing, though.” Dwalin replied, grin unsettling Bilbo just as his brother’s did. “A public indecency charge, Bo? Whatever for?”

Bilbo just groaned, hiding his face in Dwalin’s chest and feeling Dwalin ruffle his hair. “Blame Bofur.” He groaned out. “And tequila.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter should be extra fun to write!
> 
> Also, well... I might raise the rating for it. NOT NECESSARILY FOR THIS NEXT CHAPTER!!! But soon... possibly...
> 
> Maybe if you ask nicely...


	8. Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner with Balin. Or at least, showing up for dinner despite Dwalin's schemes to get out of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL.
> 
> I BET YOU THOUGHT I FORGOT ABOUT THIS FIC, DIDN'T YOU?
> 
> To be honest, I felt a little stuck with it. So I wrote this part, wanted to write more, then proceeded to try and fail multiple times. 
> 
> All I can say is I'm SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG, enjoy this part, and hope that I can get the next part up sooner than several months or so.

There was a big subject running around Bilbo’s at the moment, and it had been doing so for a few days, now. It was the fact that he was going to experience his first official “meet the family” dinner. The family in question being Dwalin’s peculiar older brother. Not to mention that Dwalin had tried to get them out of it by using Frodo as an excuse (something that Bilbo didn’t truly mind, for the man seemed incredibly hesitant on having him experience Balin anymore than was strictly necessary), and said brother simply told him to just “bring the lad along if you can’t find a babysitter!” 

So far, Bilbo was rather terrified. Sure, Balin seemed like a generally nice man, but he also had a rather disturbing air about him. That he knew more than he let on, which was only proven as fact since he listed all of Bilbo’s criminal offenses right off the top of his brain. It would be his luck that Balin would hate him, and do something to him because of it. He hoped that Balin wouldn’t poison the food. In Bilbo’s mind, that was just wrong, and entirely improper. Not to mention a great slight against food in general.

Bilbo fiddled with the wine in his lap, a little glad that Frodo’s mother had managed to finally get some time off to be with her son. He was nervous enough without Frodo coming along, he didn’t need the added pressure of making sure the young lad, as sweet as he was, didn’t cause any trouble. Not to mention that the car ride was ridiculously long. Balin, apparently, lived far beyond the city, in a house he inherited from his and Dwalin’s parents. He was curious as to what Dwalin inherited, but he said before that he didn’t like charity, and that while his brother had a fairly open mind, he had hinted that his parents were more conservative. 

“Hey.”

Bilbo turned away from the winding dirt road to look at Dwalin, who was focused on driving, but managed to slip a large hand over both of his.

“It’s just dinner.” Dwalin stated. “If anything happens, I’ll get you out of there.”

He decides ignore the fact that Dwalin didn’t at all mention that it would be fine, but he nodded anyway. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Just…” He muttered, feeling rather embarrassed. “I’ve never done something like this before.”

He saw Dwalin’s brow furrow from the glow of the lights on the dashboard. “What do you mean?”

“Meeting the family.” He answered. “I’ve… No one’s ever taken me to meet their family before.”

There’s a brief pause as he’s clearly trying to absorb this information when Dwalin finally snorts. “It’s not that big of a deal, really.” He stated. “Just, with mine, you always have to check the mirrors before you use the toilet.”

“Why the mirrors?”

“Ah! Here we are.”

Bilbo looked out the window just as Dwalin was racing up the driveway and his jaw dropped. He had always seen mansions and large state houses in movies and television shows, but he never saw one in person before. It was a little foreboding, if he was being honest with himself. The large structure towering over them, lights illuminating the front through the windows and fixtures by the door. To think that Dwalin actually grew up in such a place was mind-boggling.

“Welcome to Cuckooville.” Dwalin announced as he pulled up front, parking the car and shutting off the ignition.

“Oh…” Bilbo breathed, looking at Dwalin. “Well, it’s… It’s rather large…”

“You’d be surprised at how boring it actually is.” He groused, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Are you ready?”

Bilbo nodded quickly, unbuckling his own seatbelt. “Yes.”

“Are you sure?” Dwalin pressed. “We can turn around right now if you’re uncomfortable. I can always make an excuse-.”

“Dwalin,” Bilbo cut in, sending his love a smile. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine. I will be, anyway. And I _want_ to do this. Just as I had you get to know Frodo, I think I should at least try to get to know your brother.”

Dwalin sighed. “Fine,” He muttered. “But if anything happens _at all_ -.”

“I know, love.” He said, cutting Dwalin off with a quick kiss. “Now, shall we?”

Dwalin huffed. “I wish you would’ve faked sick or something…”

Bilbo laughed. “Well, if anything, we’ll be getting this over and done with!”

Dwalin chuckled, and Bilbo smiled at the sound, allowing the larger man to put an arm around his shoulders and lead him up the steps. Despite the warm arm, Bilbo still clutched the bottle tightly, fearing that he would drop it.

He almost did when the door was pulled open and they were greeted by Balin. “Ah! Glad that you could made it! And on time, I might add!”

“Brother.” Dwalin greeted, and Bilbo swallowed hard at his tone.

“Well, it’s always good to see you, Dwalin.” Balin said, tipping his head to them both. “And it’s a pleasure to see you again, Bilbo!”

“A pleasure indeed.” He replied, trying to give Balin his best smile, though he was sure he looked like he was in pain.

“Well, don’t just stand there. Come on in!” The man said, pulling the door open further and waving them in. “The staff has taken the night off, so we have the house all to ourselves.”

Dwalin grumbled something that Bilbo couldn’t quite hear, and he figured that was probably for the best. 

“Well, it certainly is a nice place.”

“Thank you. It’s the family home, where Dwalin and I grew up.” Balin explained, smirking. “But I’m sure he’s told you that already.”

Dwalin scoffed and Bilbo just smiled easily at him. “He might’ve mentioned it, yes.”

“Well, dinner is still cooking, so why don’t we go adjourn to the living room?”

“Ah-Yes. Yes, of course.” Bilbo stuttered, thrown at Balin’s choice of words. Once Balin was out of earshot, he tilted his head towards Dwalin, who leaned down to listen better. “Did he really say ‘adjourn’?”

Dwalin chuckled. “Yes. Yes, he did.”

“Who actually says _adjourn_ comfortably, these days?” He continued to hiss, and it only made Dwalin laugh harder.

“My brother.” He finally answered, nudging at Bilbo slightly. “And trust me, it gets worse.”

Bilbo bit back a groan, because he wasn’t prepared for that. Sure, he was smart, or at least thought he was. He got very good grades in school (when he felt like going), and was very well-versed in a plethora of topics. But if Balin threw out words like “adjourn” and spoke as eloquently as he did, Bilbo probably wouldn’t stand a chance. He’d be left unimpressed, and he knew what would happen if that were the case.

He was sure that Dwalin couldn’t care less, but he didn’t want to cause any more tension or strain that already seemed to exist.

The living room was as luxurious-looking as Bilbo had predicted it to be. With soft, plush carpeting and rugs, furniture made with rich wood and fabrics, and a roaring fireplace. He was terrified at the mere thought of sitting down, so he delayed that action as long as he could.

“I-er… I brought the wine.” He offered, holding up said bottle.

“Oh, yes! Wonderful!” Balin said brightly, taking the offered wine and looking it over. “Very good year, too. And red has always been a personal favorite of mine.”

With that Balin began to leave. “Make yourselves comfortable! I’ll just set this aside for dinner!”

Bilbo watched his retreating figure, thinking that Balin would most likely pitch the wine he happened to just yank off the shelves in a rush at the store. He wouldn’t blame the older man, for he did seem like the kind of person that would have very refined tastes. Something Bilbo didn’t really have himself.

As soon as he left the room, Dwalin promptly dropped onto a nearby sofa, patting the seat next to him. Bilbo hesitated for a few moments before sitting down as slowly and as gently as he could manage. 

“You need to relax.” Dwalin urged gently, wrapping an arm around Bilbo’s shoulders. “It’s not healthy being this tense.”

“I’m sitting on a sofa with you that probably costs more than all of my own furniture _combined_!” He hissed, even as Dwalin pulled him into his side. “I’m afraid of breaking something if I so much as breathe on it!”

“He can always replace it.”

“That doesn’t mean I should try-!”

That was when Balin returned, causing Bilbo to immediately straighten up and out of Dwalin’s hold. 

“Oh, how rude of me! I forgot,” Balin cursed. “Would you boys like anything to drink?”

“The usual.” Dwalin answered quickly, and Bilbo felt a little concerned when Balin frowned.

“Really, brother, on a night like this?”

“If you don’t want a repeat of the last time, then yes.”

Balin looked skywards as Bilbo’s curiosity rose about Dwalin’s request, then watched as he went to what appeared to be the drinks cupboard and pulled out a crystal bottle that seemed to be filled with some type of malt liquor. It shocked Bilbo, for he had never seen Dwalin drink anything stronger than a beer, claiming to hate most of the stronger stuff. 

He couldn’t imagine what Balin would do that would cause his brother to turn to such drinks.

“Bilbo, what would you like?”

He decided to play it safe. “Er… Just water, please. If it’s not too much trouble.”

**Author's Note:**

> Told you, I was horrible.
> 
> Tumblr: http://omgaidawtf.tumblr.com


End file.
